walking with woodrow

I've learned a lot on my little walks with Woodrow.  Charles Woodrow, that is.  There will never be a greater name, or a greater hound than the namesake (Lonesome Dove, my favorite book), but I digress.  Greyhounds are pretty amazing creatures, though. For one, they are homebodies. And complete slugs. They love to sit still. They love their familiar surroundings. They love their owners. And oh yeah, at times, they love to run. But they only like to run for a minute or two and back to their spots they go, pefectly content to sit and be still. You could say they are good with balance :)

I've always loved being outside.  The room to breathe.  And the air found in the mountains is especically nice. When I was in college, I would hike Sundance every Sunday afternoon. By myself. It was great.  Everyone was in church, and the good Lord and I were having our services outside. 

So the walks.  Walks tend not to happen as much in Texas.  Or really anywhere, for most people.  Who just goes for walks anymore?  Runs with loud music so we can be skinny?  Yup. I did my share of those. Hour after hour of TV and movies? Honey, I own the trophy.  But to just detach from everything with an on/off switch and calmly walk outside?  It's become a lost art. 

I wonder what those who lived 150 years ago would think if they could just have a 10 second glimpse at how we live these days.  Ipads. Iphones. Laptops. Ipods. Video games. TV. Music.  We have to have something ON to breathe, almost.  And no one was more guilty of this than me.  When you get into such an insanely busy life pattern, when you are stretched so thin and are so stressed that you shake, all day long, you can't just turn it off whenever you'd like. You have to keep doing something. Keep moving. Keep running 8 miles on 2 hours of sleep (yep. everyday). Keep flipping the channel. Keep searching the internet. Keep moving, physically and mentally. Stay at home this weekend and relax?  Wait! I fly free - let me fly somewhere. anywhere.  I can rest on the plane, right? Sleep?  Look out the window and relax?  No chance, had to be typing something, had to be watching something.  'Please turn off all electronics.'  Oh man, at least it's only for 15 minutes.

Okay, so you see my point. my soapbox.  a very hypocratical one, I might add.  So I got the dog. The name dreamer lasted about a minute and he became my Charles Woodrow.  He's a greyhound. They need walks. Everyday.  I have to walk this thing?  But I'm tired. It would be better for me to just rest and watch another episode of House Hunters, don't you think?

Yet the walks began.  His tail would wag when I grabbed the leash and sore and tired as I was, off we went. First, just around the block. He would sniff and lift his leg on EVERY single surface that was standing still.  Eventually, he would just run out of pee but lift his leg he still would, bless his heart.  I started wth loud music blaring, the phone in my hand repeatedly calling everyone and anyone, afraid to actually just, well, walk. 

Eventually I learned. One foot in front of the other. Silence. Wind in the trees. Gorgeous light an hour before sunset. I often get tired half way through and find a nice patch of grass and just sit. Okay, sometimes I lay down. Charlie walks around me, sniffing and peeing, and for a half hour or so, that's what we do.  The phone isn't ringing, the mouse isn't clicking, and the air is mighty nice.